


The Fellowship of the Miraculous Plaid Shirt

by superhoney



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Charlie Lives, First Kiss, Fluff, M/M, Men of Letters Bunker, Sharing Clothes, Spells & Enchantments, Team Free Will, brief mention of Sam/OFC
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-06
Updated: 2016-08-06
Packaged: 2018-07-29 15:11:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7689400
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/superhoney/pseuds/superhoney
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Claire gives Castiel a present in the form of a plaid shirt, and unexpectedly, all of Team Free Will benefits from it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Fellowship of the Miraculous Plaid Shirt

Really, the whole thing is Claire’s fault. 

She’s visiting them at the Bunker for the weekend, and when Dean picks her up at the bus depot in town, she’s got a small blue gift bag in one hand in addition to the battered backpack slung over her shoulders. He raises an eyebrow, and she meets his gaze steadily, but doesn’t offer any explanation, so Dean just shrugs it off. 

It’s not until later that night, after the pizza’s all gone and they’re sitting lazily around the table in the war room, that the bag makes another appearance. During a lull in the conversation, Claire pulls it out from under the table and hands it to Castiel, who holds it politely, but makes no move to open it.

Claire rolls her eyes. “It’s for you, dummy,” she says. “Open it.”

Dean smothers a grin, glad that she said it before he had to.

“Oh.” A pleased smile dawns on Cas’ face, and he opens the bag and slowly pulls out a simple blue-and-white plaid shirt. Dean whistles in appreciation. He knows a good plaid when he sees one, and those colours will make Cas’ eyes pop even more than they normally do, which is really saying something. Across the table, Sam gives an approving nod, and as maybe the only person with more plaid in his wardrobe than Dean, that means a lot.

“I didn’t know when your birthday is, or if angels even have birthdays, and to be honest I probably don’t want to know,” Claire explains, twisting her hair around her fingers nervously. “But I thought- I don’t know. I just thought you might like it.”

“I do,” Cas says in the soft tone that he seems to reserve just for her. “I love it, Claire, thank you.”

“My birthday is August 9th, in case anyone was wondering,” Charlie comments. 

“What, you want a plaid shirt too?” Claire teases.

Charlie shrugs. “I wouldn’t say no, though there are plenty of other things you guys could get me instead.”

Dean watches them banter back and forth, sipping at his beer. Charlie’s good for Claire. She’s been through some shit in her life, but she’s doing just fine these days. Claire has Alex and Jody and Donna as well, but you can never have enough love and support. And it’s good for Charlie to feel like part of a family again as well.

Of course, their family isn’t perfect, but looking around the room, Dean is pretty damn happy to be here with all of them.

Cas has passed the shirt over to Sam, who seems to be giving it a thorough inspection, nodding sagely as he examines the buttons and rubs the fabric between his hands. He gives it back to Cas, who folds it so carefully you’d think it was made of glass, and places it back in the bag. 

\----------

Dean mostly forgets about the shirt until he sees Cas wear it for the first time, a few days after Claire has left. They’re heading off on a case, something Sam caught wind of: a potentially haunted college dorm. Dean and Sam get their fed outfits on to talk to the dean, but Cas is going casual, posing as a reporter covering the incidents for a local paper. He’s wearing the shirt with a pair of dark, slim-fitting jeans, and he’s found these black-framed glasses in one of the Men of Letters’ storerooms that he claims make him look more professional.

Dean’s not sure about that, but he does know that Cas looks fucking hot in the get-up. The shirt fits him perfectly, clinging flatteringly to his torso in a way that’s only obscene because Dean is so accustomed to his body being hidden beneath the trenchcoat. Cas has left the shirt open at the throat and rolled up the sleeves, showing off a hint of collarbone and an expanse of tanned forearms. Dean doesn’t think he’ll have any trouble getting college-aged kids to talk to him, dressed like that. He looks like every hot professor fantasy Dean has ever had come to life.

Apparently, the outfit works, because when they reconvene at their motel a few hours later, Cas is bursting with information while Sam and Dean have exactly zero leads. 

“Dude, how did you get them to talk to you so easily?” Dean asks incredulously. Cas is getting better with the whole hunting thing, but he’s still kind of awkward. People don’t always open up to him the way they do when Dean lays on the charm or Sam cranks up the puppy-dog eyes. 

Cas shrugs. “I felt very confident,” he says. “And confidence is key.”

Sam’s trying and failing to hide his smile. He claps Cas on the back. “Good for you, man.”

Cas’ information is enough to identify the suspect and find out where he’s buried, and it’s case closed pretty quickly after that. The whole way home, Dean sneaks glances at Cas in the rearview mirror, and the whole way home, Cas wears a proud smile.

\--------

The next time the shirt makes an appearance, Dean is very confused. Because it’s not Cas wearing it, it’s Sam. 

“Dude, isn’t that the shirt Claire gave Cas?” 

Sam looks down at his own chest and frowns. “Is it? It does look similar, I guess. But it can’t be, it’s my size,” he says, tugging it across his chest to demonstrate.

Dean looks at him consideringly. They’re all pretty fit guys, but Sam definitely has several inches on Cas, and the shirt hangs on him like it was made to his specific measurements. And Dean remembers exactly how well Cas’ shirt had fit him. It can’t be the same shirt. 

“What, you don’t even remember the contents of your own wardrobe anymore?” he jokes. “I think that means you own too much plaid, Sammy.”

“Probably,” Sam agrees. “I’m going out for groceries, want anything?”

“Bacon,” Dean replies absently, already thinking about all the things he can make with it. 

“Bacon it is. See you in a bit.” Sam leaves, and Dean goes off in search of someone else to talk to. 

He finds Cas and Charlie curled up in the bedroom they’ve converted to a TV room, watching the old animated version of The Lord of the Rings. He settles onto the couch beside Cas and steals a handful of his popcorn, ignoring his grumbles.

They’re still absorbed in the movie when Sam gets home about an hour later. Dean can hear him whistling as he puts away groceries. Weird. Sam appears after a few minutes and hands them all beers, then flops down into a chair, a goofy grin on his face.

Dean looks at him suspiciously. “You didn’t bring a dog home, did you?”

“What? No,” Sam says. “Why would you ask that?”

“You’re in a weirdly good mood.”

Charlie pauses the movie, sensing that there might be some good gossip coming. “Yeah, you do look a little bit twitterpated,” she agrees.

The lighting’s too faint to be sure, but Dean thinks that Sam might be blushing. “I, uh, met someone in town,” he says. “We’re going for dinner tomorrow night.”

Charlie lets out an excited squeal, and Cas grins at him like a proud dad. Dean just smirks. “Must be something pretty special if she’s got you all flustered like this,” he says, because he’s never not going to take an opportunity to tease his little brother. 

“She is,” Sam says dreamily, and okay, it’s kind of cute, how starry-eyed he seems to be about this mystery girl. “I was checking her out in the produce section, but I wasn’t going to say anything, and then I let her in front of me in line, and I don’t know, it’s like all of a sudden, I knew it would go my way if I made a move, so I did.”

“That’s wonderful, Sam,” Cas says earnestly. “I hope it continues to go so well for you.”

Dean and Charlie nod in agreement, and Sam just smiles and drinks his beer.

\---------

It gets really weird when Charlie comes home from a weekend away for a Moondor event. She comes into the library where they’re all hanging out, and Dean hugs her in greeting. When he steps back, he tilts his head in confusion, staring at her outfit.

“Umn, Dean?” Charlie asks. “Any particular reason why you’re staring at my general chest area?”

Dean shakes his head, trying to clear his vision, but he’s still seeing what he thought he was before: Charlie’s wearing the blue-and-white plaid shirt now. Even though it’s open over one of her graphic t-shirts, it’s definitely her size, not hanging off her petite frame the way something belonging to either Cas or Sam would.

“Where’d you get that shirt?” he blurts out. 

Charlie looks down at herself. “What? Oh. I don’t remember, actually. But it was in my room when I was packing. I thought maybe it was Claire’s, that she left it here and it ended up with my stuff.”

“I think Claire did leave it here,” Dean says slowly. “When she gave it to Cas.”

Sam looks up from the book he’s studying. “It’s a similar pattern, but there’s no way that’s the same shirt,” he says. “It fits her too well.”

Cas stands up and circles Charlie slowly. She’s standing stock-still, looking faintly nervous. “It does appear very like the one Claire gave me,” Cas says. “Even the buttons are the same.”

“I knew there was something weird about that shirt,” Dean mumbles.

“What do you mean?” Charlie looks afraid of the answer.

“I thought Sam was wearing it a few weeks ago, too,” Dean explains. “So then it would have to fit him, you, and Cas.”

“A magic shirt?” Sam snorts. “Come on, Dean. That’s ridiculous, even for us.”

Cas has a thoughtful expression on his face. “It’s possible,” he acknowledges. “There could be some sort of spell woven into the fabric.”

“A good spell or a bad spell?” Charlie asks hesitantly, fiddling with the sleeves of the shirt like she’s ready to tear it off at a moment’s notice. 

“Cursed object?” Dean hopes not. He doesn’t want to have to burn the thing. It looked really good on Cas.

“None of us have suffered any ill effects so far,” Cas says. “I wore it, and nothing out of the ordinary happened. Same with Sam.”

“That’s not exactly true,” Sam chimes in. “You were wearing it on that haunted dorm case, remember? When all the witnesses spilled everything to you with hardly any encouragement? And I was wearing it when I asked Paige out.”

Dean turns to face Charlie. “Did anything unusual happen while you were wearing it?”

Charlie starts to reply, then stops. “I had it on under my LARPing outfit,” she admits. “And we won. I felt invincible the whole way through the tournament.”

“So, what, it’s like instant-confidence?” Dean asks. He looks around the room, and the other three are quiet, offering no alternatives. “Great. So what do we do about it?”

“Nothing?” Sam suggests. “It’s weird, yeah. But it doesn’t seem malicious.”

“When does anything like this not have a downside?” Dean counters. “Remember that faith healer who had the reaper on a leash? That seemed like a good thing at first, too.”

Sam makes a face. “Fair point,” he concedes. 

“I would prefer not to destroy it until we’re sure,” Cas says quietly. “It was a gift.”

Dean immediately feels guilty for suggesting that there’s something wrong with the shirt. Claire had given it to Cas in an unprompted gesture of affection, and now here Dean was, going on about how it would probably bite them in the ass. “Sorry,” he offers weakly. “How do we know for sure, though?”

“If it is a spell- well, then, we call an expert,” Cas says.

\----------

Rowena sweeps into the Bunker not long afterwards, her lip curling up in distaste as she takes in the shirt in question, lying innocently on the table in the war room. “This is the thing that’s got you all so worried?” she asks. “Who would bother putting a curse on something so common?”

Dean sighs. He’s not thrilled that she’s here, but he can’t deny that she’s helpful. “The more ordinary it looks, the less obvious the curse would be,” he explains. “And it would probably reach a lot more people than some frou-frou designer shit.”

Rowena picks the shirt up and inspects it closely, muttering some Latin under her breath and sprinkling it with some herbs. Dean waits for it to react, but nothing happens. After a few more tests, Rowena shrugs and puts the shirt down. “It’s not cursed,” she announces. 

“So it just magically happens to fit whoever puts it on, and then grants them some sort of instant confidence?” Dean finds this hard to believe.

“There is some sort of spell at work,” Rowena admits, “but I assure you, it’s harmless magic, meant to to make the wearer become attached to the shirt and thus to the brand. Some clothing manufacturer hired a witch without even knowing it, I suspect, and is thanking their lucky stars that they did without really understanding how they got so fortunate.”

“You mean this is all a money-making scheme?” Sam asks.

“Most likely, yes.”

Charlie bursts into giggles, and Dean can’t help joining her. Rowena arches an eyebrow at them. “It’s not that funny,” she says. “It’s quite sad, really. To see how far witchcraft has fallen. We used to have real ambition.”

That just makes Charlie laugh harder. Rowena sighs dramatically and heads for the exit. “Thanks,” Dean calls after her, but she doesn’t dignify that with a reply.

Meanwhile, Cas has crossed the room and picked the shirt up. He slips it over his shoulders, and this time, Dean isn’t surprised to see that it fits him perfectly. Dean shakes his head, but he’s still smiling. Maybe for once there is no downside to this weirdness.

\--------

Dean’s doing laundry a few days later when he pulls the shirt out of the dryer. He smoothes it out with one hand, thinking about what the others said it felt like when they were wearing it. Like they could do anything, because they knew it would turn out well for them. Still a bit nervous despite Rowena’s reassurances, Dean slides the shirt on over his plain grey t-shirt and buttons it up. He inspects himself in the bathroom mirror, and sets off down the hall. 

He finds Cas in his room, poring over a book about shapeshifter legends from around the world. “Hey,” Dean says from the doorway.

Cas looks up at him and smiles, then tilts his head to one side as he notices what Dean is wearing. “That looks good on you,” he states.

Dean walks into the room, closing the door behind him. He sits down beside Cas on the bed and gently takes the book out of his hands. Cas looks at him with those brilliant blue eyes, and Dean reaches out to slowly cup his face in one hand. Cas nuzzles slightly into the touch, and that’s all the confirmation that Dean needs to bring his other hand up and pull Cas into a kiss.

They break apart a few minutes later, and Dean smiles at him, giddy like a teenager. “This shirt really is good luck,” he jokes. 

Cas shakes his head softly. “You didn’t need the shirt,” he says affectionately. “We were always going to end up here, eventually. Maybe it gave you the boost of confidence you needed, but the feelings were already there.”

Hearing Cas confirm Dean’s deepest wishes makes him feel happy and reckless. He slowly unbuttons the shirt, grinning when he sees Cas’ eyes drop to his chest to follow the movement as his hands. Then he tosses the shirt over his shoulder, and leans in to kiss Cas again. Their lips press together sweetly at first, but the kiss deepens quickly, leaving them both a little bit breathless. 

“See,” Cas whispers. “I told you that you didn’t need the shirt.”

Turns out, they don’t need the rest of their clothes either.

**Author's Note:**

> I heard Natasha Bedingfield's Unwritten today and thought of a SPN-version of the Sisterhood of the Travelling Pants and it made me laugh out loud, then I just had to write this. 
> 
> A big thank-you to A_Diamond, who read this over for me before posting!


End file.
